


Played

by DJRezYourGays



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 14:32:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12706929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJRezYourGays/pseuds/DJRezYourGays
Summary: Angela reads a letter from her former patient, Genji, who worries about whether his role in Overwatch is any different from the life he abdicated with the Shimada crime family.MicroWriMo 2017Prompt: Instrument





	Played

"This came for you today, Dr. Ziegler," the med researcher told Angela, handing her the letter in its worn envelope.

"Dangge," Angela replied, taking the letter without looking as she read through the latest batch of test results.  There was a fever running through the camp, but nothing they couldn't handle as long as their next supply shipment arrived on time.

She left the office tent and squinted at the late afternoon sun beating down on their dusty little camp in the hills outside Konya.  The winter days were easier than the long summer had been, but the cold nights had her worried for their patients.  On her way to her tent, she made a note to add more blankets to their next supply order.

The tiny lamp bloomed to life as she hung it back on its peg on the tent pole and took a seat by the small desk already littered with papers, notes, and a framed picture of the Overwatch team from before the organization collapsed.  Tucked into a corner of the frame was a much newer picture, a photo she'd snapped with Fareeha when she'd passed through Cairo on her way here.

The wooden fold-out chair creaked as the doctor stretched out the kink in her back, kicking off her shoes with some effort before propping them on the edge of the cot and taking a look at the letter.  The envelope was stamped with every country between Turkey and Nepal.  Angela smiled, already guessing at who sent it.

"Greetings, Doctor Ziegler," it read in a beautiful, flowing script.  Angela couldn't help but analyze it, looking for signs of hesitation or unsteadiness in her former patient's hands, but Genji's lines were careful and clean.  She smiled.

"I hope this winter finds you well," the letter went on.  "It is cold here.  I find myself taking my mask sometimes off just to feel the chill on my skin.  Do not worry, I never stay out in it too long - Master Zenyatta makes certain of that.  He reminds me of you when he is upset.  I confess sometimes I do it just to wind him up."

"Genji..." Angela sighed, putting the letter down to pinch the bridge of her nose.  She laughed in spite of herself, not finding it difficult to picture Genji terrorizing the poor monk.  After the operation, she had been grateful Zenyatta had had so much success in helping Genji find the other side of his anger.  The shock of his new self had been significant, and Angela had worried Genji might never feel truly human again.  On the contrary, it seemed - he sounded more himself now than ever.

She turned up the brightness on the lamp and continued with the letter.  "I have been given another assignment," it read.  "I cannot say where I am headed, but I know it will be dangerous.  They do not send me for anything else. By the time you receive this letter, I hope to be back at the monastery, safe and sound.  

"I am grateful to the monks here," Genji wrote, "but I worry that I have betrayed them.  I left my family because I did not want to be a soldier in a war that meant nothing.  I tell myself that Overwatch is different, but, I am uncertain."

Angela felt a weight sink in her chest. It was a familiar doubt.  Part of her was grateful to hear it spoken by someone else for a change.  While Overwatch gave her a unique chance to help, the organization was far from perfect, and its militarized approach ran directly counter to all the work she tried to do.  It was impossible to ignore that Genji himself was the spitting image of that wing of Overwatch's approach to its problems.

"I tell myself that I am a scalpel," the letter continued, "carefully cutting only what needs to be cut, so that the body can heal.  But it does not change the fact that I feel like a tool in someone else's hands - hands I am not sure I trust to be as caring as yours.  Perhaps I really am a machine after all."

Angela set the letter down again, taking a deep breath to steady herself.  She picked up the photo from her desk, plucking the smaller picture from the frame and holding Fareeha's smiling face up to the lantern light.  She understand now better than ever Ana's misgivings about her daughter joining Overwatch.  For her part, Angela selfishly wished Fareeha hadn't listened, that she might have the excuse to be here now to comfort her.

Touching the corner of her eye, Angela turned to the final page of the letter, already thinking through her reply.  "Master Zenyatta reminds me that human and machine are one within the Iris.  That there is no shame in my condition, but rather, opportunity.  I am not sure I always believe him, but I want to.

"For now, I will continue to be a scalpel, cutting only what needs to be cut, and hoping for better hands than mine to come and stitch it up after.  Perhaps in time, I can learn how to be more than just a weapon.  Luckily, I have no shortage of excellent teachers."

Angela traced her finger over the small image of a bird Genji had doodled in the empty space next to his grand signature.  A sparrow, from the looks of it, its wings spread in a remarkable facsimile of a Valkyrie suit.  Angela smiled, setting the letter aside and turning off the lamp, hoping to steal a few hours' sleep before her next shift.  Genji's question still gnawed at her mind, but at least her former patient - her friend - was starting to piece together an answer for himself.  Perhaps in time he might be able to teach her a thing or two for a change.


End file.
